


How to find yourself becoming a scorpion

by FhimeChan



Series: The Yellow Portal [2]
Category: Clash of the Titans (2010), Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Draco meets Will, F/M, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, a bit sadder than the first part, between Digestivo and The Great Red Dragon, but there’s hope for everyone, random unexplained cosmic portals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 07:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10759962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FhimeChan/pseuds/FhimeChan
Summary: Draco finds himself in a really strange place after Medusa petrified him. Between strange memories and inexplicable feelings, he will find the motivation to go on with his life.This is Draco’s point of view on the events of “Probably a dog”.





	How to find yourself becoming a scorpion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cinnamaldeide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamaldeide/gifts).



> This story was supposed to be for [Cinnamaldeide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamaldeide), because she gave me the prompt. Unfortunately for her, she also agreed to beta the text and in the end she had to deal with a frankly embarrassing number of mistakes. I hope she appreciated the thought, at least. Thanks for your hard work, dear!

Draco was proudly smiling when he had been petrified by Medusa.

A moment before, he was running and running and running, as he had run for years, as he had started to do since his daughter died. At that time he had mused that if he could reduce his life to a mechanical sequence of movements and actions, maybe the pain would have gone away. It had been just wistful thinking since the emptiness in his chest remained there, but he ended up stuck with that way of living. He was used to always keep moving, to always be alert, because he was a warrior, and a breathing warrior had to hold on his life with teeth. He could not even remember how he handled himself before the loss. Rationally, he knew that he had deeply loved his family and felt safe with them; he remembered secretly laughing with his wife late at night over his daughter’s tantrums, chatting with other soldiers while drinking wine and quietly talking near the fireplace in winter nights. In short, he remembered letting his guard down.

Emotionally, he couldn’t remember how he felt in those moments. That had been the price to pay to become numb to the loss, and now it was not possible to change back anymore, even if he would bother to try. But he had no intention of even considering the idea, because his family was gone, so what would be the point? Better not waste the precious time that he needed to survive brooding over his younger self.

He was more efficient now. The battles were all that he had left, and he would not live any other way. During the fight, it didn’t matter if he was a father, a husband or simply a nameless soldier with a blade; all that mattered was to survive, to make his men survive and to fulfill his duty as a citizen. It was a convenient job for a man such as Draco.

Still, he was not heartless. He always put the safety of his companions before anything, he was respectful towards the defeated and he always gave the younger soldiers a fair opportunity to prove their value. Nevertheless he had completely lost interest in engaging in a relationship or in making friends. He was always a bit detached from the people chatting, he was never laughing, never smiling, always thinking how to make everyone live another day. He felt that human interactions were pointless, and on top of that, bothersome. There was just no point in making the effort to talk to someone and faking interest in the conversation when nothing practical would come out of it.

So it had been an easy choice to follow Perseo to hell, because it was his duty and it was the best purpose that he could still give to his life. In order for the mission to succeed, they would have to move quickly, to be constantly alert and to fight at every step. And that was exactly what Draco had been doing for years. On top of this, they could actually have a chance to save the world, and that had been the only thing that had been still able to stir some sort of passion in his heart. Even if the mission would be the end of him, Draco did not care.

For this reason, he was satisfied when Medusa petrified him. As a warrior, he had defied the gods and probably saved millions of life. It was the kind of death that the poets would sing for years afterwards. As a man, he was simply tired of fighting, tired to the bone. He had not given up before just because he still conserved part of his stubborn pride. But there was no shame in meeting his fate by the hand of Medusa, a demigod, if that could save Perseo.

So, in the last seconds before the fatal blow, he smiled.

****-** **

He was expecting to see Charon and his boat again, but a circle of yellow light appeared. Differently from other people, he had already crossed the Stix, and he would not be fooled by a random mystical portal. That was not hell. Maybe something had to happen before he could be admitted into the actual place. Could there be a queue, or an antechamber? And perhaps Hades was too busy killing people to organize a properly greeting for everyone. 

Also, no myth talked about the beautiful man clearly half-asleep that was looking at him as if he was a ghost. Well, to be fair, he was actually dead. Maybe the man was some kind of demigod punished for his beauty, like Medusa. But then, why was he not attacking him?

A moment later, the light disappeared and he was in a dark room lying over something really comfortable. Draco was more and more puzzled: that was really not how the elders had described hell, and was also completely different from his personal journey in Hades’ realm. Surely the lost souls were not offered the possibility to rest. Even if, he reasoned, what were you supposed to do after death? To rest seemed not so improbable. Still, something so soft was  _ really _ out of place. He had expected to feel pain, at least a little bit, and yet everything was so normal, even pleasant, and that was not making any sense. The only sensible change was that his limbs were behaving in a really strange way, but it probably was reasonable after being petrified. 

The strangest thing was actually that in spite of everything, Draco was feeling… home. Maybe the nordic warriors had a point when they bragged about their Valhalla, was this the Greek equivalent? If that was the case, he had to admit that the man who was now lying next to him was beautiful enough to welcome the warriors to their last dwelling. Even if he was not welcoming at all, he was just sleeping. Still, Draco felt that there he was safe and cared for. Weird. Really weird.

At that point the warrior decided that he was dead, and so what was the point of worrying? At least, not to rack one’s brain should be a granted right for the souls in hell. It was not like thinking would have done him some good. He had been petrified, he had accomplished his heroic death, and he was done.

So he turned on his side and he went to sleep, still feeling that strange sense of safety and love that he had not experienced in years. 

****-** **

The next morning he woke up at dawn, as usual. In the past he had made a point of sleeping as little time as possible and of scanning his surrounding for enemies even before opening his eyes. This morning, he took his time to simply relax.

He was not sure why, but a voice in his head was telling him that he was safe and he still was too tired to keep distrusting the world. And actually, even if he had forced himself for years to be the first one to rise, deeply down he was not a morning person. So he decided to just lay there for a while. Slowly, he became aware of something warm under his… tail? At that point Draco jerked awake with a shiver.

The prior night he had not imagined the strange response of his body. Well, the night before everything had been strange and, to be honest, everything still was. But now he was not sure of being dead anymore. And if he was still alive, maybe he had a problem.

His body, if he still could call it so, was very different from before. He had eight legs, for a start. His skin was strangely rigid and the tail was still in place, in spite of his hope of having hallucinated it. In fact, he had become the small version of the scorpion that he had recently killed.

Some hours prior, such a discovery would have put him in alert and he would have immediately started to search for a cure. Yet this morning he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had just had the best night of sleep in ages, he was safe and he was with Will.

Wait a moment, why did he know the name of the man? Draco turned his strange body towards the stranger, and he noticed that he was awake and staring. 

The scorpion took a brief glance around and realized that the world he had been left in was completely unknown to him. And yet, he was sure that he was not in danger. And that the name of the man was Will.

He asked himself why he was so sure of his instinct. He knew perfectly well what would have been his reaction in waking up with a big scorpion at his feet. And still, Will just stared without showing hostility.

In that moment, a woman entered the room. That seemed to snap the man out of his reverie, and against all common sense of preservation Will offered him his hand to smell. 

Guided by the same instinct that was telling him that he was safe, Draco advanced towards the man and settled into his lap. A wave of relief flowed through him. He could finally let his guard down.

****-** **

The next days, Draco worried a lot. It had been easy to get used to his body and to the new world. The problem was, it had been  _ too _ easy. He instinctively knew things like the correct amount of time to stir a chicken soup, the best herbs that went into the rabbit stew and the perfect procedure to prepare pasta. Considering the apparent trash that Will and the woman dared to call food, he was sure that he would have done better as a scorpion. He was also certain of never having heard of that kind of dishes before. 

His knowledge of Will was still more concerning. He knew everything about him, from his favourite activities to the precise color of his hair. But it was still more than that. Sometimes, while for example Will was making coffee, of while he was putting wood in the fireplace, snippets of memories came to his mind. Will smiling, Will joking, Will bleeding… Every moment that he remembered made him feel a little closer to the man who was taking care of him. In that occasions, he felt himself drowning in affection for the man and in nameless longing. But that didn’t make sense, because he was living with Will, wasn’t he?

It was really easy to let go of everything and simply enjoy his actual life. He finally was no more in charge, but taken care of. He had not to fight for surviving, but instead food was provided by someone else.

It was so difficult to keep track of his feelings and to separate them from the foreign memories that kept randomly invading his mind, and he was tired of fighting. So in the end he just gave up trying.

After all, Will was actually a nice person, and Draco felt a connection with him. Because even if Will was married and with a child, in his eyes there was the same loss that was reflected in Draco’s. Was it so important whom those strange feelings belonged to? Draco had a home, and he was determined to protect it and to protect the person who was taking care of him. He was enjoying the easy companionship with Will, and he was glad to just relax and follow him anywhere. If sometimes he behaved like the other person of his memory, nobody was suffering for it. There was no point in fighting.

The cold of the winter, the hunger during the war, the pain of the fresh wounds, all the hardships of the last years were slowly fading in the back of his mind, while some other things that he thought forever lost were coming back to him. The first smile of his daughter, the incredible sense of pride when she had started to walk, the deep love for his wife… Now he could remember exactly those feelings. He was no longer living for duty and nothing else.

****-** **

It was a perfectly normal day, and Will had just put his mittens on him, when Draco realized that he wanted to talk. He wanted to share his thought with another human being, he wanted to laugh with friends and he wanted to be loved again.

The epiphany froze him on the spot. He had spent years avoiding human interactions. Being a scorpion had been simple, because no one was expecting him to think and communicate, but now he didn’t want to be alone anymore. Will’s constant attentions had given him enough time to heal and now he felt ready to try and claim his life back. It was time for a change.

In that moment, a familiar circle of light opened over his head. Not a second had passed when he regained his human appearances, and finally his mind was his own again.

Hannibal. He had shared Hannibal’s memories. The memories of a man madly in love with Will, that had risked everything for him.

Those actions were so different from his own, but they were exactly what he needed to move on with his life. Hannibal’s memories had given him the force to fight again and enough hope to put himself on the line. Draco was very fond of Will, and the connection between them was real, but now it was time to find his own way.

One last foreign memory entered his mind before his farewell. It was similar to the fragmented moments that he had reminded before, but in a way it was more indistinct. It was a vision of the future. Hannibal’s pure joy in seeing Will again was unmistaken. 

Draco smiled sadly, watching Will running towards him. He would miss him. But that was not his world and it was time to say goodbye to the man. However, after all that Will had done for him, at least he could give him some hope. 

So Draco gazed directly in Will’s eyes and whispered “soon”, knowing that his inevitable reunion with Hannibal was imminent.

His former epiphany had also told him something else. Somewhere, in a remote enchanted land, someone was meant for him. It was time for Draco to go find them.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed writing this story and if you are here reading the notes I hope that you appreciated my efforts!  
> I will probably post another part to give a happy ending, maybe two if I will come up with a worthy idea.  
> Thanks for reading! :D


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